It Wasn't You
by Muggle Jane
Summary: He watched his brother die, and he knew it should have been him. Written for small-town hearts for the GGE2014


**A/N: Disclaimer of not owning anything but the plot. Written for small-town hearts for the GGE2014!**

She saw him sitting alone, a thin redhead with a freckled countenance covered in dust and a very stunned expression on his face. He sat on the staircase in the rubble and the dirt, staring at the floor between his feet in a very distracted manner. He'd taken part in the battle, that was obvious from the numerous cuts and abrasions, the torn clothing stained in places with blood.

She directed a silent healing spell at him, he didn't look up, he didn't even seem to notice. After a moment, she went and sat on the stair beside him. She rested her elbows on her knees and let herself stare at the pile of debris in front of them without really seeing it.

He gave a great start when he noticed her, and she looked over to see him studying her profile, and almost accusatory look on his face.

"Who was it?" she asked gently.

He stared for another moment and then looked away, and she could see the fresh pain well in his eyes. "My brother." His voice was choked, strained, and he turned until she was presented with the back of his head. The freckles marched all the way across the back of his neck, she noticed.

"I lost my mum," she replied. "Not today, earlier this week. She had the nerve to stand up to the Death-Eaters trying to raid her store of herbs, she said they were going to steal her livelihood. It hurt a lot right at first, now it's mostly numb. I imagine it'll hurt again later." She shook her head, thinking over the past few days. "I don't think I've smiled since."

His eyes came back to hers, and she recognized the haunted look in them. She saw the same look every time she passed a mirror. "Did you see it?" she asked gently. "See him fall?"

He nodded. She reached out a hand and laid it gently on his shoulder. He was a stranger, but they shared a common pain, and somehow that made them not entirely unknown to each other. "Does it get better?" he asked almost desperately.

She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She wanted to lie because that would be more comforting, but she just couldn't. Her hand stayed on his shoulder, but her gaze returned to the pile of debris in front of her. Her eyes picked out the details of a small grey rock in front. It looked like it had been a part of the crumbled wall that was left half-standing beyond it. "Don't know. Not yet. I'm tired and numb, and later I'll probably have a bath a long cry, but right now I just... feel empty."

"I was right there," he told her hoarsely. "Right beside him. It could have been me." He shook his head, his eyes squeezing tightly shut. "It should have been me."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see the motion. Every time she thought over what had happened, she thought the same thing. She should have been the one to stand up to the Death-Eaters. She should have been the one to draw her wand, she should have been the one facing down the faceless man in the mask. She might have survived the curse that had caused her mum to fall lifeless to the floor in front of her.

"What was his name?" she asked, finally pulling her hand back to rest it on her knee.

"Fred."

"Younger?" He nodded. "Did he look like you?"

"Shorter, thicker." He drew a deep breath and exhaled shakily. "He played Quidditch in school, he was a Beater. He was smart, though, he could have-" He cut himself off abruptly as though he'd been about to criticize his brother, and couldn't bring himself to do it. "He was a better brother, a better son than I was. It should have been me." There was a fierceness in his repeated words, as though if he willed it hard enough, he would change places with the brother he'd lost

"You have other siblings?" Another curt nod. "Mum and dad?"

"Yes." She could feel the intensity of his gaze as he glared at her.

"Why are you over here, then?"

"It should have been me!" he shouted. "He wasn't the one who abandoned his family because he wanted to feel important." A look over showed that he was glaring at her like he was daring her to contradict him.

"That may be, but it wasn't you." She gave him a long, measured look. "I don't get on with my sister. We're like day and night, always have been. But when Mum..." It was her turn to inhale and let out a long, shaky breath. "When Mum died," she made herself say the hated word, even though it felt like it was sticking in her throat, "it didn't matter. We needed each other because there was a bit of Mum in both of us." She met his angry eyes, unbothered by the strength of his emotion. "There's a bit of your brother in you, and your family needs that piece of him. They need you." Her eyes moved over the grief etched in his face. "Just like you need them."

He stared at her for another long moment, and the nodded, pushing himself to his feet. He stood over her, looking down at her. "Thank you- what's your name?"

"Audrey."

"Thank you, Audrey."

She watched him turn and walk away, a sense of purpose guiding his steps. She leaned her forehead against her hands for a moment, letting out another long sigh, and then got to her feet. She needed to find her sister.


End file.
